


Staying Up - The Other Place

by lokidiabolus



Series: Staying Up [17]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Background story, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidiabolus/pseuds/lokidiabolus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What was strange about me telling you I’m staying here and will see you tomorrow?” Newt gave him an unimpressed look and Thomas’ face distorted in shame.<br/>“You didn’t use any smiley.”<br/>“Are you shitting me?” the blond stopped in his ministrations of getting Thomas dry with the towel and the writer bit his lower lip nervously. “I don’t use smileys!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying Up - The Other Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faerirye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerirye/gifts).



Sometimes the sleep came easy. Sometimes it took the whole night. Sometimes it didn’t come at all. Newt was grateful that today was one of the rare days when sleep approached without coaxing, engulfing him in a pleasant tiredness and complimenting his bed with his unmoving form in it. Not having Thomas there with him proved unsatisfying and sort of alien and Newt wondered if this really wasn’t the right time to give in and move to Thomas’ flat instead. The man pestered him about it for half a year already, now more subtle than before, but still there, still _working on it_.

Newt couldn’t deny he was reluctant. It still held a big significance to have a place to disappear to when the shit hit the fan or when he needed to be out of the constant nursing Thomas kept on the whole time (caring about everything, a single sigh, a light groan, not a proper eating schedule, bad sleeping three nights in a row, worried curve of his brows) or an actual insisting for _a nice time_ (especially when Newt felt like buried under a ton of bricks or had a murderous mood). When Newt couldn’t stay around him without snapping, he came here, calming down in silence.

The only thing that bothered him _every single time_ was how he got used to those things already. How the _bother_ morphed into _habit_ , how he realized that he came here to calm down but got even more agitated instead without Thomas with him.

He felt the same today, but the reason why he decided to sleep in his place instead of Thomas’ was a lot simpler now, a mere need to protect his boyfriend from his own snappy mood he couldn’t help as long as his leg kept on acting up. The weather was atrocious and wet, it rained for four days in a row now, and the temperature dropped so low he wondered when the rain was going to change to snow. Such conditions always shot straight to his nerve system, making his leg hurt like hell, completely ruining the mood with the pain. He was snappy at everyone, his comebacks often made even him cringe, but he barked it out before the thoughts caught up with his mouth.

One would say he should have been used to it already after all these years. But each and every time his leg started acting up he became a completely different person, not able to socialize or stand himself at that matter.

He got hurt 10 years ago during a school trip. It was purely accidental, but he had to deal with accusations of suicidal tendencies until he finished the school. He fell from the cliff (not as high to kill himself for sure, but high enough to get his leg broken to pieces, since he landed on it) when he tried to act all tough and _idiotic_ , stepped wrong, slipped and landed hard. Later on he heard he threatened his classmates not to come any closer or he would jump and end it. For half a year he tried to defend himself, to set it up right, but it didn’t really help (as well he couldn’t avoid dozens of psychiatric appointments and an almost every day meetings with the school counselor), so he just gave up.

He was getting out of the heavy limping for _years_ (or better he was learning to _walk_ properly for a long time at first, his knee was basically _shattered,_ as well as the ankle), but he managed to get rid of the overly noticeable limp after all, if the weather didn’t mess up his hard-built defense. Once the rain started to get cold and unpleasantly chilly, his leg was like radar for it. Before the rain even managed to arrive, he already felt it, slowly dropping into the darker mood. And once it hit, he became unapproachable.

Today he even left his work earlier because he was too close to strangling Teresa and Alby both without a proper reason, and he was terrified what some Thomas’ habits would do to him at that point (for his messy eating or almost tripping over his clothes on the ground a death penalty would occur, probably). So he texted him with the information he was staying at his own place today and will see him tomorrow, and barricaded himself in the bed.

The pain subsided after some time, or maybe the sleep hazed his brain enough to stop feeling it, but he dozed off easily, listening to the steady beat of the rain against the windowsill. This peaceful moment stretched for several hours, a relaxing atmosphere lulling him gently, until a sharp ring of his bell woke him up abruptly, making him leap to the sitting position like an arrow. He quickly checked the clock – it showed a little past 11 – and wondered what kind of an idiot was bothering him at such hour. He thought of ignoring the guest pointedly, but after the second ring he grudgingly got up and padded to his door, opening it with an annoyed expression on his face.

A completely drenched Thomas greeted him with a sheepish smile.

“Thomas?” he echoed, dumbfounded. The man was literally dripping wet, his hair plastered against his head pitifully, a hoodie soaked and he already had a pool under his feet.

“Hey,” the writer croaked and cleared his throat immediately. “Sorry to bother you.”

“What the… You are _wet_!” Newt exclaimed and dragged him in quickly, shutting the door behind him and running to the bathroom for a towel. “You idiot, what were you thinking?!”

Thomas only stood there, still at the spot where Newt left him, and didn’t say a single word when the blond started stripping him from the wet clothes, throwing the offensive pieces towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing here, you moron? I texted you I’ll see you tomorrow,” Newt grumbled under his breath while dragging drenched jeans off Thomas’ unmoving form. His skin felt cold to the touch and he huffed in annoyance.

_Big baby._

“I thought something happened,” Thomas mumbled in an answer. “The text was so… strange.”

“What was strange about me telling you I’m staying here and will see you tomorrow?” Newt gave him an unimpressed look and Thomas’ face distorted in shame.

“You didn’t use any smiley.”

“Are you shitting me?” the blond stopped in his ministrations of getting Thomas dry with the towel and the writer bit his lower lip nervously. “I don’t use smileys!”

“Yes, you do,” Thomas opposed. “You always do. And when there is something wrong, you don’t.”

“I don’t-,” Newt stopped, the possibility of him doing it unintentionally only with Thomas coming to his mind. It _was_ possible. He was sure he never used them at any other point, but with Thomas it must have been a reflex (since Thomas _always_ used smileys when texting him, or mailing him at that matter).

“Alright,” he breathed out, exasperated. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Thomas’ voice was soft when he asked, and Newt started drying his hair unmercifully.

“Nothing happened,” he replied with a sigh. “I was just in a bad mood. Didn’t want to take it out on you.”

“Did I wake you?” another unsure question and Newt threw the towel towards the bathroom as well, running his fingers through Thomas’ hair to smooth it a little.

“Yes.”

“Sorry,” the writer whispered apologetically and finally moved, reaching out and pulling Newt towards him, locking him in an embrace. “I’ll go back.”

“No, you won’t,” Newt refused with a growl, sprawling his palms over Thomas’ bare back, trying to warm him up. “Stupid, getting drenched like this. Don’t you know about umbrellas?”

“What is that?” Thomas teased him in a weak voice and Newt pinched his side, earning a yelp.

“Protects you from the rain, you time traveler.”

“Witchcraft.”

“Go to the bed,” Newt ordered him, smacking his butt in process. “Will get you some clothes.”

Thomas didn’t protest, but before he actually moved he leaned towards Newt again, kissing him softly on the nose.

“Love you.”

“Bed. Now.”

“So forceful,” the writer laughed when Newt flipped him off, and disappeared in the bedroom. Newt only shook his head, quickly throwing the wet clothes to the dryer and went through the wardrobe. Thomas was lucky he still had some of his clothes in Newt’s place, because trying him to fit into some of Newt’s shirts or pants could prove difficult (also hilarious, but that was just a bonus point).

When he got back to the bedroom, Thomas was already snuggled in covers, shivering slightly, and Newt threw a shirt at him with s reprimanding look.

“You should go take a hot shower,” he told him firmly, but Thomas only shook his head, patting the free spot next to him after he pulled the shirt on. Newt didn’t protest, but decided to keep an unforgiving expression up to show him what he thought about it. It didn’t really work because Thomas only dragged him close to his body and wrapped himself around his form like an octopus, breathing him deep.

“You should move in with me,” he told him and Newt rolled his eyes.

“We already talked about this.”

“Yes, and I’m throwing another argument in,” the writer nuzzled his neck, kissing it lightly. “Whatever troubles you I’m sure we can deal with together.”

“It’s just my leg,” Newt mumbled. “When it hurts I tend to be snappy.”

He felt a light touch on his right thigh, caressing it slowly.

“The weather?” Thomas asked, his big hand spread over the flesh as if he was trying to take some of the pain away. It made Newt mewl a little, such gentle touch seeping into him.

“Yeah,” he piped after, burying his face in Thomas’ chest. “But it’s better.”

“Okay.” The touches continued, languid movements of his fingers, circling and drawing abstract shapes, up and down, lulling Newt back to sleep contently.

He should move in with him for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> This is a request fill for PeriwinkleRoses <3  
> "You said we would have a bit about the story behind Newts leg. Can you write it as a one-shot or sort bit please xx"  
> Hope it answered your inquiry, hun! I thought giving Newt a tragic backstory in Staying up would be already too much, since Thomas is already messed up a lot. So here you go :)
> 
> For this piece another is going to follow tomorrow, another request fill :) (I am still accepting requests, so feel free to prompt it to me, either for Staying up or Online :))
> 
> Have a great day!


End file.
